Stranger's Gift (20 page)

“Hello,” Arlen called as he stepped onto the deck and then offered his hand to Hester.

Margery stuck her head out the missing door. She was wiping tears of merriment from her eyes with the hem of her oversized T-shirt. “Come on in and have some breakfast,” she invited. “You are not going to believe who has offered to lend us a hand.” This last seemed to set her off all over again, and when Arlen and Hester stepped into Margery's cramped living space, Hester was stunned to see John apparently still recovering from whatever joke Margery had told. The effect that his smile had on her was unsettling, and she looked away.

“Well, now, this is a nice surprise,” Arlen boomed as he grasped John's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “How are you faring over at Tucker's Point, John?”

All traces of humor disappeared. When Hester glanced his way, she saw that John's deep-set eyes had darkened like storm clouds over the Gulf. “Well enough. I should thank you for sending Samuel to check in on me from time to time. The loan of his camper has been a special blessing.”

Hester and her father exchanged a look. Neither of them had had any idea that Samuel had continued to visit John after he had gone out there to leave his camper.

“Samuel makes his own choices,” Arlen replied.

The tiny space was suddenly filled with silence until Margery came to the rescue. “Well, we'll get nothing done standing around here jabbering. Go on out there on the deck where there's more room. Find some shade and have something to eat. Whoo-ee! Guess this is what folks up north call Indian summer. Cool nights and scorching days. Welcome to autumn in Florida.”

“We ate at home,” Arlen told her, “but I always leave room for at least one of your biscuits, Margery.”

“Let me help you,” Hester offered, taking down two more plates from the open shelving above the sink and holding them while Margery dished up bacon with one hand while scrambling more eggs with the other. Hester was glad to see John take his almost-empty plate and coffee mug and follow her father outside. “When did he get here?” she asked Margery in a near whisper.

“John?” She glanced at the clock and shrugged. “Half hour ago. You could've knocked me over with a feather when I saw him out there, steering that old piece of junk of mine with one hand.” She chuckled. “I'll bet it took him near quarter of an hour just to get her fired up and backed away from his pier, but the man is stubborn.”

“What does he want?”

“Want?” Margery looked at Hester as if she had suddenly started speaking in tongues. “He says he's come to help.”

“After two years?”

“Oh, honey, it may seem like two years, but that storm blew here only just over a month ago.” She topped off the plates Hester was holding with two hot biscuits each. “Oh, I get it. You mean why come now when he's never made the move before?”

Hester nodded and waited for Margery to pour coffee in two chipped, mismatched mugs.

“People change all the time,” Margery said. “Admittedly some take longer than others, but he's here, and that's the main thing.” She led the way out to the deck, where John and Arlen had found shelter in the shade. John was pointing to something above them, and Arlen was nodding.

“You want a refill?” Margery asked John. He held out his coffee mug.

“Get it yourself,” Margery barked. “This cook's done her thing for the morning.”

Hester watched as John got up and made his way back to the galley. He was limping.

“What happened to your ankle?” she asked.

“Stepped in a sinkhole and twisted it,” he replied and disappeared inside.

“One good leg and one good arm?” Margery called after him. “You're a real bargain, John Steiner.” She turned her attention to her breakfast but gave Arlen a conspiratorial wink. “I think the boy might be coming around finally.”

“He looks terrible,” Hester whispered back.

“I expect he's not sleeping much. He was pretty bitten up before Samuel brought the camper and mosquito netting and such.” Margery glanced up as John started back toward them, his plate loaded with the rest of the bacon and biscuits. “You're gonna eat me out of house and home,” she growled.

“I figured we'd all save energy if I just brought out what was left.”

“Yeah, everybody knows you're a real sweetheart,” Margery said as she helped herself to another biscuit from the plate and plopped one onto Arlen's plate.

Hester was sure she wasn't seeing right. Had John Steiner almost smiled as he took his seat again? Somehow Margery had gotten to the man, won him over.

The crunch of car tires on packed sand and gravel followed by the slamming of car doors and voices told Hester that the rest of the crew had arrived. Arlen and Margery went to meet them and help with the unloading of supplies. Hester started to clear away the breakfast dishes.

“I can do this,” John said. “You go on and help Arlen and the others.”

She glanced at the cast that looked as if it had been through its own hurricane. “Let me look at that,” she said, taking his arm before he could refuse. “What have you done to yourself?” she muttered as she examined the fiberglass cast that in places was worn down to his bare skin.

“I'm fine,” he grumbled, pulling his arm away and ducking his head to clear the galley doorway.

“You are not fine, John. Your wrist probably needs resetting, and then there's the matter of that ankle. You're wearing a compression bandage?”

“I do what I need to do to get around.”

“And you're wearing flip-flops? When you're working in areas hard hit by a hurricane, that is just plain stupid. With all the debris, you could easily trip or step on a nail.” She followed him inside and set down the stack of plates she was carrying. “As long as I'm here, you might as well let me take a look.”

“Don't do me any favors, lady.”

Hester released a weary sigh. “Could we call a truce here and agree that you might actually benefit from my examining you?”

He eyed her suspiciously.

“If you want to help Margery, then you're doing her no favors by not taking care of yourself.” She took down Margery's first-aid kit from the shelf above the door.

She decided to maintain her professional demeanor in spite of the fact that what she really wanted to do was to lecture the man that his refusal to accept help when it was offered had endangered his health.

“Did you ice it?” she asked as she removed the filthy compression bandage and dropped it in the trash.

His answer was a snort of derision that she suspected just might be covering a grimace of pain as she probed the bruised skin. “Sure. I used the icemaker on my refrigerator. You know, the one that got thrown halfway to Siesta when the hurricane blew through?”

She glanced up at him. “A simple ‘no' would suffice.” She continued to examine him, her fingers working their way over the arch of his foot and up and around his ankle.

“You're going to bite the tip of your tongue off,” he said.

From her kneeling position on the floor next to his chair, she looked up to find him studying her closely. His eyes roamed over her features, her hair, her prayer covering. “Why are you always so angry, Hester Detlef?” he asked when she quirked an eyebrow at him.

“If you take my seriousness about my work for anger, then maybe that's because you're the one who walks through your days with barely concealed hostility.”

“Maybe I've got my reasons.”

“I'm sure you believe that you do, but I would remind you that the people you have been fortunate enough to meet here have nothing but your best interests in mind. They—we—do not deserve to be treated with such—”

“Got it. And so we come back to you.”

She decided to ignore him. “Point your toe,” she instructed and was amazed when he complied. “Now trace the letters of the alphabet using your toe like a pencil.”

“Why?” He eyed her with suspicion.

“Because my goal in life is to make you look as ridiculous as possible,” she snapped. Then she forced herself to swallow her annoyance. “It's a rehabilitation exercise, one you can practice on your own while your ankle heals. Try the vowels.”

He slowly traced the letter
a
and then an e.

“Good,” she said. “Try that later with the entire alphabet and repeat it three to five times a day. It will help improve your range of motion.”

“What else?”

She checked to see if he was baiting her, but he was continuing the exercise on his own. “Okay, here's one more. Put your foot flat on the floor. You need to be sitting in a chair for this one.”

“I am sitting in a chair,” he pointed out.

“I mean when you do it on your own. Foot flat on the floor. Now move your knee from side to side slowly while keeping your foot pressed flat.”

He tried it.

“Slower,” she instructed. “Good. Do both of those three to five times a day, and it should help.” She took out a tube of ointment and started applying it to the insect bites on his good arm. Then she stood up and bent over him to treat the bites on his face. She paused. It was her turn to study his features. His skin was scorched a deep russet. The beginnings of a beard had sprouted on his chin, golden-red like his hair. His eyes were deep-set under a strong forehead accented by thick eyebrows that had been bleached almost white by the sun. His eyes, fixed on hers, were the verdant green of a tropical forest. And yet his overall appearance was that of a man who was deeply troubled, who had known great sadness in his life. Hester felt a twinge of empathy for him.

“We, my father and Samuel and the others included, do not wish to cause you further pain, John,” she said as she continued to apply the salve to his cheekbones and temples. “I don't know why it seems important to say this to you, but you are safe here.”

She stepped back, recapping the tube of ointment as she checked to be sure she hadn't missed any bites. “Better,” she said more to herself than to him. “As for that wrist,” she went on, “we'll have to go into town for that to be looked at. It may need to be reset.”

“Now?”

“What's to be gained by waiting?”

“I came here to help Margery.”

“There'll be plenty left to do once we go and come back.” She took a fresh compression bandage from the first-aid kit and knelt to wrap his ankle.

“I thought you said this wasn't a good idea.”

“I'm just covering it loosely. It will serve as a reminder to you to take care as you move around on it, at least until we can get you a proper pair of shoes.”

She put away the first-aid kit and poured water over the dishes to let them soak while they were gone. “Coming?” She waited by the doorway.

“Coming,” he said as he grudgingly got to his feet.

Hester took visual stock of the room until she spotted a walking stick leaning against the wall. “Use this,” she said. “We'll stop by the distribution center as long as we're in town and find you some work boots and a hat that properly covers your ears, neck, and face.”

“Don't push it,” he muttered as he followed her onto the pier and walked on toward the car while she collected car keys from her father and explained why they were leaving. To her surprise, when she got to the car, he was holding the door open for her.

“Thank you,” she said as she slid in and pushed the key into the ignition. She watched him walk around the front of the car and with some satisfaction noticed that he was not limping nearly as badly as he had before she'd treated him. She also couldn't seem to stop noticing that John Steiner was one good-looking man.

P
redictably the wait in the emergency room promised to be a long one, and they hadn't been there half an hour when John suddenly stood up.

“This is a waste of time.”

“That depends on how you choose to look at the situation,” Hester replied. “Your wrist needs a new cast. Without it you will likely do further damage and set back your efforts to restore your own property and help Margery.”

He sat back down and Hester slid a bench closer to him. “You should keep that ankle elevated when you're sitting.”

“Steiner,” the attendant called.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Hester asked as John struggled to his feet.

“I'm not twelve, Hester,” he grumbled and hobbled off.

Down the hall a cheery aide greeted him with, “And how are we doing today?”

John answered her with a nearly inaudible, “How do you think?”

Hester sighed. Whatever common ground John may have found with Margery earlier that morning, it certainly had not carried over to others.

But when John emerged from the examining room, he was wearing a smaller cast that left his fingers free to move, as well as what Hester had come to understand was for him a pleasant expression. He crossed the room wiggling his fingers, and that was when she noticed that the ER doctor had also outfitted him with a boot to support his ankle.

“Ready?” she asked, realizing instinctively that it would not do to make a fuss about this change in his attitude.

John nodded, his focus still on experimenting with how he might use his hand and fingers.

“That's quite an improvement,” Hester ventured as she drove back to Pinecraft so John could get some sturdier shoes and perhaps some clothing.

“Yeah.”

She turned onto Bahia Vista and followed a stream of traffic east. “You know, now that the cottages in Pinecraft have been restored, I'm sure Dad would be willing to send a team of workers out to help you, once they've finished with Margery's bait shop, of course.”

“I'll be okay,” he said.

“Yeah, we can all see that you're managing just fine,” she said. And then on a whim she pulled her father's car into the parking lot of Big Olaf's Creamery. “I need ice cream,” she announced as she cut the engine and got out of the car.